I'm not that girl
by spoodle monkey
Summary: This is a song fic for the song i'm not that girl from the musical wicked. it is slash. Herryjay from class of the titans. please no flames. this is only my second post. T to be safe?


**I'm not that girl**

(song fic inspired by the song "I'm not that girl from the musical Wicked)

Class of the titans- Herry/Jay

Summary: Herry isnt that girl

Disclaimer: dont own them, never will. i need to get over it.

_Hands touch, eyes meet_

_Sudden silence, sudden heat_

_He could be that boy,_

_But I'm not that girl_

I look at him, as he sits across from me in the library. He holds my gaze and I can feel my face

heating up, then he quickly looks away when someone walks by.

I look back down at my book, then reach out without looking up for another book. I feel my hand

brush something warm and I look up, startled. Jays looking back at me with wide eyes, his hand

resting on mine. I don't pull my hand away, watching him as he watches me. I can feel myself blush.

Theresa enters the room and the moments broken. He pulls his hand back, blushing and looks away.

I pick up the book and hide my face in it, going back to my work, ignoring Theresa when she starts

talking, and _laughing_ with Jay. I pretend that there's no burning in my eyes or emptiness in my

stomach.

_Don't dream too far_

_Don't lose sight of who you are_

_Don't remember that rush of joy_

_He could be that boy,_

_I'm not that girl_

At night, I toss and turn, but not from nightmares, not the normal ones at least. I dream of his laugh,

his smile, I dream of the two of us together, then I snap awake and the tears roll down my face. It

has never been this hard, I have never felt like this before.

My stomach flops as I imagine him laughing at a joke, the way his eyes sparkle, and his smile

grows. My breath hitches, a lump growing in my throat. I can still remember the rush I felt today

when we were sitting together on the grass. We were laughing and smiling and forgetting the pain

we have to deal with. He looked at me, and I felt my stomach, I cant even explain it, but I didn't

want it to end. And it might not of, the look in his eyes promised more, much more. Then the

moment was gone, and we settled into silence.

_Ev'ry so often we long to steal,_

_To the land of what might-have-been_

_But that doesn't soften the ache we feel_

_When reality sets back in_

I long to look over where he sits. No, its more then that, I long to be the one sitting beside him. The

one with all his attention, watching him watch me as I speak, as he memorises everything for a later

date. Then as he replies, I would watch as he became more and more passionate. His hands moving

of their own accord, emphasising a point. His hands, a mystery in themselves. So smooth, but hard

as well. How do his hands stay like this, when he works so hard, trying to take the brunt of,

everything, the work, pain, tasks, for us. Then there is his mouth. His speech coming from a fluid

tongue, as he snarls in anger, or hums in happiness. His lips wrapping themselves around syllables.

The fantasies of his speech, come to me at night, with painful release, followed by tears. The tears

of the harsh reality of what shall not be. The ache I feel is true and here. The sun only seems to shine

around him, the rest of the world dull compared to his radiance.

Reality comes back to me, un welcomed as always. There he sits across the room, as if he senses my

gaze, my thoughts, he looks up and holds my gaze. Then it breaks as he looks back at Theresa, as she

talks, not with passion, but with forced interest. It should be me talking to him, with his attention,

his passion.

_Blithe smile, lithe limb_

_She's who winsome, she wins him_

_Gold hair with gentle curl_

_That's the girl he chose_

_And heaven knows_

_I'm not that girl…_

In the end, good always win, right? So does that make me evil? He sits with her, his arm around her.

They laugh and talk, exchange kisses. A happiness that fails to work on me. The dull ache of before

is now a knife in my side, twisting, with each moment they are together. I see him rarely now. He is

always with her. He feels no concern, none for the shreds of my heart. His smile, blithe, his grace

portrayed through his movements, dancing with her, swaying around and around the dance floor as

the music plays silvering music, figures dancing gracefully. She sways in her long gown, her hair in

this light almost made of gold, curling gently. As he moves majestically, dressed in black,

appropriate for the funeral of my heart. And yet he still glances up, his gaze locking with mine over

her shoulder, the gone with the sway of the music. I am not the one in his arms. I am not that girl.

Don't wish, don't start 

_Wishing only wounds the heart_

_I wasn't born for the rose and pearl_

_There's a girl I know_

_He loves her so_

_I'm not that girl_

I stand outside now, letting the rain wash down on me, washing away the tears that threaten to fall.

The chill not quite reaching my haven of the storm. Lightning clashes as thunder crashes, like wild

horses, prancing across the heavens. There are no stars out, no wishes tonight. But I cant start. If I

did, I know I wouldn't be able to stop, stop the wishes, just waiting to be spilled from my lips. My

wishing, it only causes more pain, more shards of glass in my broken heart. My mind circles around

the pearls she wore tonight and the rose pinned to her flowing gown. I was never meant for those.

My grace is not defined by what you see. I wear no flowing dress, or slippers of glass. My beauty

not related to the soft, delicate petals of the rose. He loves her so, not I. Never I. In my wishes

someone holds me safe and warm, with the music playing in our minds. Things I wish to know,

things my heart wish to have memories of. The rain pounds as the first sobs wrack my body, nearly

driving me to my knees. I sit on the stone bench, surrounded by tiger lilies, shrinking away from the

pounding rain. My head in my hands, heart on my lips. A warm hand on my shoulder startles me. I

slip to the wet ground, looking up through the night gloom. He stands there, water droplets dripping

down him. His suit clinging to him. He smiles and extends a hand. My mind tells me this is just a

escape from reality, but his smile convinces my heart this is true. I grasp his hand, still warm,

despite the chill of the night. We stand there, hand gripped in hand, watching him, watch me. I start

to blush despite myself and look away. He speaks so quietly, I nearly don't hear him. "what?" I

whisper back

"I made a mistake, can you ever forgive me?" I look at him. Studying him. Those lips that speak

with passion, the hands, which I hold, just waiting to be put to use with emotion.

"I'm not that girl" I point out, my voice breaking slightly.

"its not the girl that I love." He replies moving towards me

"I forgive you" I whisper against his lips. Our first kiss is heated with passion and the regret of

waiting for so long. Salty tears mix with the kiss, and I realise I am crying, but so is he. We finally

break off, shivering, but not from the rain.

"we should head inside" he points out. He takes my hand, and I follow him inside, glancing briefly

back at the tiger lilies, no longer looking like they are shrinking away from the pounding rain, but

merely waiting for the storm to pass and the sun to shine on them once again.


End file.
